Page 8 of Idle

“Now what?” Mum appears from the bedroom wing. Rising, Mr. Laughlin repeats his statement and Mum snatches the papers from Father. “What does this mean?” With every word, her tone gets higher and higher. I remain transfixed, wondering the same exact thing.

“Let’s all calm down so we can discuss this.” Mr. Laughlin motions toward the multiple seating options.

Instead of following his lawyer’s advice, Father grabs the paperwork out of Mum’s hands and stalks over to the windows. I’m positive he doesn’t see Central Park.

Mr. Laughlin purses his lips, but then sits after Mum takes her chair. “This means,” he begins, making eye contact with Mum and then me.

Again,why me?

“It means the government is seeking to freeze the combined assets of you and your two partners as possibly tainted. They’re claiming everything was received as proceeds of a crime. You would no longer be able to access your business equipment, vehicles, rental properties, business or personal bank accounts, investment accounts—”

When he gets to the part about our personal bank accounts, Father spins on his heel. “Stop them.” With measured steps, he approaches the attorney and I push deeper into the cushion, thankful for not having chosen the leather sectional. “File an objection. Do whatever it is youdo, but make this stop.”

The attorney licks his lips. “I understand, Ogden. The office is already drafting one. We’ll definitely ask to keep access to this home, one vehicle, and a certain portion of your accounts.”

For the first time since Mr. Laughlin got here, I inhale a full breath. This will be okay.

Father’s expression takes on a calculating air, one I’ve seen many times in the past when he’s crafting a new idea. “This objection better outperform your motion to dismiss,” his growl is lower and more menacing than before.

Without reacting to his client’s tone, Mr. Laughlin nods. “I have a couple more things I need to tell you about the prosecution’s motion. They’ve also sought to freeze your home, inheritances, and assets owned by your spouses.”

As he’s been ticking off the items, Mum’s red face turns purple. She jumps out of her chair. “Excuse me. ‘Assets owned by your spouse’?” She points to herself. “Me?”

While Mum carries on, I focus on the item he said prior to that.Inheritances. Does this mean our trust funds? I’m still two years away from getting mine, Chloe and Gabrielle are three. Hell, even Halle still has a year to go, as does my older brother Ryder.

Wading into a gap in the heated conversation, I lean forward. “My trust fund?”

The grey-haired gentleman turns sad eyes toward me. “I’m afraid so.”

I exhale and fall into the cushions. While not much, I was banking on my million dollars to be a safety net. Now it might be gone. As willeverything, thanks to whatever Father and my uncles have been up to.Allegedly. I clamp my mouth closed.

“We’re going to fight this motion with all we have,” Mr. Laughlin says. “At the moment, I suggest you sit tight and make a list of any assets the government cannot claim as being ‘tainted.’” He focuses on Mum. “Like anything you might have brought into the marriage, Ivy.”

For me, the list is short. Everything I have is because of Father, even the proceeds from my one and only house flip, since he both found and funded the original purchase. However, at my eldest brother’s insistence, I did set up a separate limited liability company and ran all monies through it. I explain this to the attorney.

“Because you paid your father back for his loan from the proceeds of your flip, this business account should be excluded from this request. Good job, Paige.”

I nod. A fraction of the tension his arrival brought seeps from my bones. I keep my thoughts to myself, as my parents appear as if they’re on the verge of starting another world war. Against whom, I’m not sure.

Reading the room, the attorney says he’ll be in touch and walks to the elevator. After the doors close, I rail, “Great job, Father. Now the whole family gets to lose out right along with you.”

“What an ungrateful brat you are,” he snarls. “I think it’s rich that the only one of my children still living at home is complaining about possibly losing her trust fund. Guess I would too if I had no ability to live on my own.”

His words cut deep. I leap to my feet and, without saying another word, I speed walk to my bedroom. Flinging the door shut, I bang my hip against it. And again. And once more.

Father’s a jerk. An egomaniac. An asshole.

My body stills.How am I going to survive without my trust fund?

Four of us already passed twenty-five and got their money. They have to share with the remaining five. They just have to. It’s not my fault I was born later in the lineup. If I received mine and others didn’t, I would give them part of my trust fund. Assuming I still had some left from the paltry amount, that is. A million doesn’t go far nowadays.

Let me see . . . my brother Theo received his three years ago and bought his apartment. Even with his new career as an author, he’s presumably house poor. Xander’s the same with a much nicer apartment and only recently becoming partner with Madison at their PR firm.

My eldest brother, Dr. Kiefer, is probably the only one of us who has cash, considering he’s a plastic surgeon. But he got out of med school and started his practice last year, creating his client base from friends of our parents’. No. He won’t be able to help me either.

The only other person to have received his trust fund is Xander’s younger brother Sebastian, otherwise known as Chef Bash. He’s made a name for himself apart from the family on the YouTube world. He must have the capacity to lend me a few bucks.

I’m reaching for my phone to get my request in when I remember the twins, Halle, and Ryder all won’t receive their trust funds either. I’m pretty sure Sebastian can’t float all of us money. My empty hand falls to my side.

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